Council Chaos
by RazielLordOfSquirrels
Summary: What starts out as a less than simple defence from the Council soon begins to reveal darker, deeper plans...
1. Chapter 1

_The squad moved silently through the dark alleys, bristling with weaponry… there were only fifteen men present in this particular squad, and led by a somewhat low-level Adjustant… this mission, despite its technical importance, had received very little initial support by the Council's hierarchy._

_Most of these men had some experience in combat, but their levels were quite low… they had been promised some better reinforcements within the hour; their mission right now was to take the building and hold it until help arrived._

_Pausing at the main entrance, looking around the deserted street, the Adjustant reached over and opened the door slowly, peeking inside. A moment later, he gestured forward and entered, his squad following just behind. _

_------_

_Ugh… _

"Now then, the BioTech Institution has been experimenting with a new cold fusion drive… we hope that the power this would produce could be used to relieve much of the energy burdens that the inter-sector forcefields that make up the Warwalls consume…"

As this droning voice continued, echoing off the walls of the brightly lit laboratory, half of the listeners looked as if they would fall asleep from the sheer boredom of the speech. How could revolutionary technology sound so dull, for heaven's sakes?

One of the students, however, did not share the lack of interest his schoolmates possessed. Tall and well-muscled, his green eyes and dark hair made him look rather intense, as if he would be picking a fight with everything and everyone. Despite this, his manner was quiet and respectful…

After all, he had the Freakshow to pick fights with almost every day.

Raziel Zonoran, who went by the alias of Comet Fist, was a rather well-known hero, with a security level of 30. Not famous, per say, but many had heard of him, even if they all had their own opinions of his tactics. Strong, fast and agile, he was a natural for charging into a room, obliterating everyone inside, then charging out in search of another room.

Yes, this sounded oddly like Tanker behaviour, but Raziel was in fact under the classification Scrapper. Standing at around six foot two, the heavily muscled youth, was at the surprisingly young age of nineteen eyes…

He currently wore a white T-shirt, black boots, a brown belt and jeans, standard civilian attire. He wished he could have worn his costume underneath, but the chances of getting discovered then would have been too great; shirts had a nasty habit of getting see-through in the rain, and his red, lightly armoured suit would have been noticed quite easily…

Despite his fascination with the world of science, neither that nor any sort of devices made Raziel as proficient a hero as he was. Mostly it came from simple training; he was a skilled martial artist, and that alone made him a threat.

But still, there was something… not quite human about Raziel.

It was hard to explain precisely what, but he just seemed be capable of things, feats of strength and quickness that no human possessed. He had been to doctors, and had been told that no, he was not a mutant… still, _something_ gave him incredible strength, durable skin…

And Darkness.

From what records on other heroes and villains with similar powers that Raziel had read up on, he had learned that he was somehow capable of channelling the deepest, darkest energies of the Underworld. He had a variety of uses for these powers; from the ability to use a shroud of dark energies to protect himself from harm, to the ability to cause an aura of darkness that could strangle the life from his foes…

Over the years his powers had done nothing but develop; when he had first discovered of them, he had been a little stronger than a human, a little faster, and able to cause some mild nausea in his foes with the darkness. Nothing to really snort about.

But then, with time and victories, he had seemed to evolve… with time he could teleport himself, then leap hundreds of yards in a single bound… flight had followed…

His newest ability, the power to move with superhuman speeds, had been inadvertently triggered last week when a Controller he had been working with, one who was capable of enhancing various natural human traits, had given him a considerable speed enhancement. The effect of that gift had solidified, then intensified, until Raziel was able to travel great distances in seconds…

He was still having a lot of fun with that power.

It had certainly come in handy when he had woken up late, with only ten minutes to cover the mile between his apartment and the laboratory where this field trip was being conducted. Though he had not been wearing his costume during that run, he had been moving more than fast enough to keep anyone from identifying him… before Superspeed, he would never have dared using his powers outside of costume, not even in private.

The spokesperson for this trip, who looked just as bored with his own speech as the rest of the classmates did, began to walk towards a computer terminal. A swift sequence and a series of blueprints popped up.

"This reactor is currently under construction in a confidential location… I am not at liberty to discuss where, but once it is complete we shall use the power source- about a kilo of a rare Tetrinite ore- to test the power source. Furthermore…"

A faint crash interrupted his monologue, causing the heads of everyone in the large room to swivel in the direction it had come from; a corridor that they had come in. It led to the main entrance of the building.

Everyone was silent for a moment, awaiting to see if the noise would make an encore. No such luck. The spokesperson looked at the group, then said hesitantly; "I'll be right back…"

Raziel watched the man walk out of the room, turning a corner a moment later. Everyone was silent as they awaited some signal that all was well. Raziel, whom hero work had made a bit paranoid, was just waiting for a signal that something was wrong.

That signal was given with the sudden rattle of automatic fire.

Almost as if on cue, everyone hit the dirt. Anyone who lived in Paragon knew that was the best thing to do when you heard a gun. Raziel hesitated for a moment, wanting nothing more than to go out there and beat the tar out of whoever had the gun…

But no, he had no idea whether there would be hostages in danger…

Just as Raziel had finished lying down on his gut with everyone else, he saw half a dozen figures, dressed head to toe in black, round the corner. They held a variety of dangerous looking weapons, but the lean cut muscles under their garbs made them look quite deadly on their own.

Immediately recognition spread across the face of every student.

The Council.

Raziel had fought them only once or twice as Comet Fist, mostly skirmishes on the streets. Their weapons were deadly, from the pulse rifles the Marksmen carried, to the flamethrowers wielded by the Fires, to the automatic weapons the Assault called their own. But the soldiers were just as dangerous, altered by supersoldier enhancements that made them very strong, fast, and tough.

"Attention!" The lead Council, one of the lieutenant rank known as Adjustants, called out as he strode into the room, his tone clipped and professional. "This building is hereby occupied by the Council. We have men posted at every exit, so escape would not be suggested. Cooperate, and you will escape with your lives. Attempt escape, and you will die."

His tone was simple, merely a man repeating a speech he had uttered dozens of different times in dozens of different places. His tone also made it clear that he would make good on the threat…

Silence greeted his statement, but that seemed to be answer enough for the six soldiers. The Adjustant turned to an Assault and gestured to the computer terminal. "Begin a download of the database, and find some blueprints on this building. I want the location of the Tetrinite immediately."

"Yessir," The Assault replied smartly and strode over to the console, tapping in rapid sequences as data scrolled on the screen.

"Now then, we will require four volunteers… there is a likely chance that either the authorities or one of the self-proclaimed superheroes will attempt to thwart this operation… should they attempt that, I assure you we will cut our losses, and make sure that no one is here to tell a tale…

"However, I am certain that a single hostage at each entrance should dissuade any opposition from attempting to breech these walls. Any who volunteer will be the first to be released once this task is finished, I assure you…"

More silence met the statement, and it was with a sigh that the Adjustant began to do the oddest of things; eenie meeney miney moe.

One by one people were selected, until soon three were being carted away, led down different corridors towards the entrances. Raziel watched as the Adjustant's hand began its final choice. Eenie Meenie Miney Moe, Catch A Tiger By The Toe, If He Hollers Let Him Go…

Eenie Meenie Miney Moe.

"You. Get up."

For a moment Raziel thought it couldn't be possible; his luck couldn't be this good… but sure enough, a moment later one of the remaining Council, a Marksman, walked forward and roughly lifted Raziel to his feet.

'M-me?" Raziel asked, the stutter genuine, though from surprise instead of fear. How could it be that simple? And only one guard? Maybe this was all some pleasant dream…

The only response was a sharp jab to the spine by the barrel of the pulse rifle. He supposed it was meant to hurt, but considering he had been shot, blown up, knocked off rooftops, frozen, bound by dark energies, attacked by psychic assaults, punched by eight foot tall robots, kicked by massive stone monsters, bit by some really vile creatures, slashed, headbutted, knocked through walls (all this only in the last month) that jab hardly registered at all.

He was a good obedient little hostage as he was carted away, waiting with tensed muscles as he and his 'escort' rounded the corner, soon vanishing from sight of the Adjustant. Even then Raziel waited for just a few more seconds, until they were walking down a long, empty stretch of corridor…

Swiftly, he spun around on his heels, grabbing the barrel of the pulse rifle and yanking it away. The Marksman pulled the trigger but the blast of energy smashed harmlessly into the corridor wall, leaving a small crater. Before he could try and aim for a second shot, Raziel elbow slammed into the bridge of his nose.

Supersoldier or no, the man was out like a light.

Raziel took a deep breath to calm himself, going over his options. Truth be told, there were not many. It would be nearly impossible to take out the men in this building and preserve his identity at the same time; he had manners when he was Comet Fist to subtly alter his appearance, but he wanted no possible connection between him and his alter-ego… still, by his estimations, a hero with a security level of fifteen wouldn't have that much trouble taking these guys out…

But how to maintain secrecy?

Then, slowly, he turned to look at the unconscious rifleman. He was starting to get an idea…

---------

"Damn this leather!" The irate hero muttered, scratching at his side for what seemed like the millionth time. Ugh, he wished that someone would shoot him, he really did… if it wasn't for the whole saving the world crap, he would just take his rifle and turn it on himself. Then again, only the world being in danger would get him into this ridiculous uniform in the first place.

Marching down the corridor, he was dressed in every damned scrap of clothing the stupid soldier possessed, which made him feel like a furnace… why the hell did the Council HAVE to wear black? Maybe they knew the possibility of uniforms being stolen and wanted to make any heroes that did so as uncomfortable as possible.

"C'mon, if they get the reactor technology, they could very well make a bomb with it…" He muttered, trying to convince himself that, yes, this was indeed absolutely necessary…

"The things I do for my city…" He grumbled, then nearly jumped out of his skin when the door in front of him opened. A combination of nerves, grumpiness, and slight absentmindedness made him completely forget he was disguised as a soldier exited the aforementioned door.

"Hey, see anyo-?" The soldier's question was cut off as a roundhouse kick neatly slammed into his jaw, sending him spinning through the air. He was out cold before he hit the ground.

"Oops…" Raziel muttered, almost apologizing to the villain he had thrashed. After a moment the impulse passed and he bent down, easily hefting the man over his shoulder. It took only a minute or two to stash him in a supply closet, and take his sidearm into custody…

Raziel at first considered taking both the assault rifle _and_ the pulse rifle… then he realized that it would attract quite a bit of attention… and, since he had no real accuracy with a single-shot weapon…

Literally taking the pulse rifle apart, he stuffed half of the pieces back in the supply closet with the soldier, then took the rest with him, including the power cell. The advantage to this uniform was all the pockets…

"All right, then," Raziel muttered to himself, "Prioritize, prioritize… do I save the hostages first? No, no, I should go after the ore before they get their hands on it… or save the scientists… or maybe… arg, I'll just pick a direction!"

Wheeling around, he stormed off determinately down one of the corridors, his jaw set and his eyes narrowed. He had a job to do, and by God, he was going to do it, itching or no itching…

Ten minutes and three soldiers later, Raziel stumbled upon the vault where the Tritinite ore must have been kept. The door was truly massive, and must have been three feet thick… the polished surface didn't have any kind of big handle to turn, or anything of that sort, but there was a keypad to the right.

Two Council soldiers were flanking a trembling scientist, one that was rapidly tapping a long string of commands into the aforementioned keypad. A third soldier was facing outward, towards the corridor.

"Okay…" Raziel muttered, crouched behind a wall. He quickly glanced around the corner once more, fixing their positions in his mind. "Time for some of those superpowers…"

Meanwhile, the scientist finished entering various commands, stepping back as the safe gave an ominous click and whirr. As the massive door began to swing inwards, all three soldiers turned towards it.

That was when Raziel made his move.

Superspeed kicking in, he raced around the corridor, his foot slamming into the back of the first soldier's head with a loud bang. The momentum sent the soldier hurling down the corridor, slamming into the second one. Both went down like a sack of potatoes, and by the time the third one could even begin to realize that something was wrong, a palm strike caught him under the chin.

Once the bodies had settled, Raziel stretched cheerfully, turning towards the scientist, who was already running forward. He was just opening his mouth to say; "Yes, yes, it was nothing," but he was cut off when the man started beating him over the head with a clipboard!

"Hey! OW!" He yelled, raising his arms to defend himself from the white-coated man, scowling behind his hood. "I'm a good guy, I'm a good guy!"

"Liar!" Thwack, thwack, thwack…

"No, I seriously am! STOP HITTING ME WITH THE DAMNED CLIPBOARD!"

Reaching over, he wrenched the clipboard out of the scientist's hand. In a brave display of courage, the man squeaked and ran off down the corridor, nearly tripping three times before he rounded the corner and went out of sight.

Grumbling, Raziel stomped over to the safe, grabbing the edge of it. Though it would have taken three or four hefty men to close it, he did so without too much difficulty, muscles straining briefly as the giant door swung shut, again with a loud click.

Brushing off his hands, Raziel stretched, shaking his head slightly as he turned back down the corridor, ready to continue raising a ruckus.

-------

"Status report…" Archon Drayax felt quite calm as he entered the building under siege, having entered through the front door. The authorities had not arrived yet, nor had any sort of heroes… the Archon was feeling quite confident that this may actually go off without a hitch.

The Archon was somewhat young by human standards, but he had risen through the ranks with astonishing speed; if he had been a hero, his security clearance would have been at least twenty seven…

Behind him, his personal guard comprising two Adjustants, two Assaults, four Riflemen and two Fires followed behind. The Adjustant that had been in charge of the initial assault upon this building, Adjustant Terren, was just in front of Drayax, facing his commander and walking backwards with the grace that these superhuman possessed.

"Initial assault has yielded 100 percent success… we have a total hostage count of twenty five civilians and eight scientists; my finest cryptologist, Assault Agent Sensier, has nearly penetrated their computer's defences; after that, we can begin transmitting to Proxima Base…"

"Excellent… what is the status of obtaining the needed Tritinite ore?"

"We isolated the proper scientist with the needed access codes to the vault… their check-in time is scheduled one point seven eight minutes, sir."

Drayax's jaw tightened… he had a bad feeling… "Attempt to contact them immediately. Sound out a general role call…"

"Sir, I am certain the delay is for simple enough reas-"

"Do it!" Turning away from the flustered Adjustant, he turned to his personal unit, more specifically two of the Marksmen. "Boyor, Ren, report to the vault and assertain its status."

"Aye Sir," They chorused in reply and jogged off.

Drayax sighed slightly... this small wrinkle was probably nothing, but there was still an unsettling feeling...

-------

Raziel was just turning down another bend, by now a good five turns away from the vault room when the sound of footsteps caused him to pause, his hands dropping to the assault rifle. A moment later, two soldiers came running around the corner.

Just as Raziel realized there was something different about these soldiers- their armour thicker, weapons newer- one barked at him; "Gamma Alpha Tango!"

"Wha-?"

Before Raziel could get anything else out, both men levelled their pulse rifles and opened fire.

Evidently, that had been some kind of code phrase, and no answer definitely wasn't better than the wrong one…

The combined blast caught Raziel straight in the chest, the impact lifting him clear off his feet and hurling him through the air. The first barrier he came across, a wooden door, shattered under the impact, and he just kept on going across the small office he had forcefully entered, his back crashing into a few bookshelves a moment later.

_Owwww..._He thought weakly, tumbling to the floor, the bookshelves burying him. He could smell somewhat charred skin, probably his own, and realized that the blast must have burned right through the padding he had worn.

These were definitely stronger soldiers…

Eventually, however, the charred scent of flesh was joined by the slightly musky scent he seemed to give off whenever he healed his injuries. The throbbing pain in his chest began to ebb, and a few moments later faded altogether. They _were_ stronger, but not quite as strong as him…

Lying in wait beneath the bookshelves, he heard approaching footsteps and muttered conversations as the two assailants approached his fallen position… he doubted they could see him beneath all the books and the wooden shelves themselves, but he nonetheless remained perfectly still, waiting for the appropriate moment…

One their footsteps were merely a few feet away, he lifted his head oh so slightly, peering through a narrow gap in the debris. Licking his slightly parched lips, he calculated the distance between himself and his intended destination… focused…

The soldiers, stopping just a foot away from the fallen bookshelves with weapons drawn, only saw a brief flash of light, and a sudden shifting as the shelves fell in on themselves. At first they felt confusion…

But, even as they began to realize what must have happened, another flash appeared behind them. Raziel materialized, hovering slightly above the ground. He did not even wait until he had landed, though; immediately he aimed a roundhouse kick for the back of the first guard's head.

The kick made the man stumble, but not fall, but the following jab and uppercut knocked him out cold. As Raziel turned to face the second one, he caught another bolt from the pulse rifle in the chest. Even prepared, he was still knocked back into the wall, his velocity leaving a crater in the plaster.

Falling to one knee, Raziel pushed off with one foot, slamming his head straight into the soldier's midriff. The man fought back, and after a brief but fierce tussle, Raziel walked out of the office, limping slightly where a third blast had injured his knee.

As his healing kicked in, however, his limp faded, his pace becoming hurried and steady once more. Those soldiers had been a lot stronger than the ones he had faced before, which either meant they had all gotten bitten by a radioactive cockroach or some junk like that, or these were different soldiers…

This could create problems…

--------

"This could create problems…"

Drayax was seated in a plush leather seat in the Main Conference Room, rubbing his padded temples. Things had been going_so_ well, he knew something would have to go wrong…

"Are you sure there hasn't been any reply?" Drayax demanded of Terren for what must have been the tenth time. (Actually, it had been the thirteenth; Terren had been counting.)

"Yes, sir, no contact on any frequency… however, there are explanations, sir," Terren replied, seeing his potential promotion slowly spiralling down the drain. "The vault itself may be blocking our radio signal…"

Ignoring him, Drayax pulled back his sleeve, tapping on a personal comn unit located on his forearm. Programming it to lock onto the frequencies of the two men he had sent off to the Vault, he spoke quietly, trying to remain calm; "This is Archon Drayax, status report."

Static was the only response.

"Perhaps the lab possesses a heightened electro-magnetic field that-"

"Terren, shut up…" Drayax groaned, starting to rub his temples again. "How many of your men are accounted for?"

Terren paused, his masked face somehow conveying a sense of nervousness…

"Terren…" Drayax's voice was starting to sound dangerous…

"Seven, sir, including myself..."

Drayax sat for a moment, processing that. "Very well… I suppose we should cut our losses, then… how much longer before the download to Proxima Base is complete?"

"Estimated at seven minutes, sir."

"Very good… sadly, the nearest orbital satellite we could use to bounce the information back to the Mainframe won't be in transmitter range for another day… so, until then, I have been authorized for some additional protection. You are to report immediately to Proxima Base, with your remaining men. There you will be re-equipped with more up-to-date weaponry for the period between your arrival and the final transmission…"

"Yes, sir." Terren bowed deeply, then turned away. Just as he reached the conference room's door, however, Drayax's voice stopped him, cold and sinister.

"Oh, and Terren… I strongly suggest you protect that base with your life… because, if something happens to that data, you will find that there are worse things than death…"

------

Raziel was worried.

This in itself wasn't too unusual, considering current circumstances. But he was really worried now, for a simple reason…

It was quiet. Too quiet.

Yes, yes, cliché of the year, but it was really too quiet! Raziel was certain that there must be more men here, a lot more. At the very least fifteen or twenty in the original assault, that was usually standard Council procedure… but he had only taken out ten, and there was no one!

Something was definitely wrong…

Raziel had been following the sound of active power lines, a dull hum that was slowly intensifying as he grew nearer to its source… trying to remember what they had been told about the building's design, Raziel wasn't too surprised to realize that he hadn't really been paying much attention to it.

Wait, wait, now he remembered… by the sound of it, he must be approaching the main computer core… and there was bound to be some Council in there…

Peeking in an expansive window overlooking the computer room, he grinned. Bingo.

A total of six Council were in there… four were off chatting in a corner, two of them Adjustants… one was guarding a hostage… the last was operating what looked like a portable satellite dish. That must be whatever they were using to grab that data…

Taking a deep breath, Raziel considered his options. A moment later, he reached into one of the suit's patches, withdrawing the power cell he had grabbed from the first Rifleman… he had heard these things could be quite unstable.

In the next minute, ten things happened within seconds.

One, the window was blasted to smithereens as armor-piercing, Teflon-coated bullets shattered the glass, sending razor sharp pieces hurling to the ground below.

Two, all six soldiers, enhanced reflexes working overtime, spun in the direction of the disturbance, lifting their weapons in the direction of it.

Three, directly behind every single soldier and hovering near the large ceiling, a good twenty feet above the ground, Raziel shimmered into existence, hurling the power cell at the four gathered Council soldiers…

Four, Raziel fired at the cell- well, with his accuracy, he kind of sprayed lead in its general direction- several shots tearing into the small super-battery.

Five, the damaged battery landed in the centre of the four men, the physical jolt pushing it into a final overload.

Six, the resulting explosion tossed all four soldiers away like rag dolls, killing the common soldiers, but only knocking the Adjustants unconscious.

Seven, the remaining two spun around to aim at the hero, but a spread of bullets from the potential target struck the transmitter, causing it to burst into flames and explode.

Eight, the explosion sent the soldier near it flying, slamming him into a wall with enough force to shatter several bones and drive him into unconsciousness.

Nine, the last soldier fired a spread of bullets at his target, but by then Raziel had already vanished in a flash of light.

Ten, Raziel reappeared behind the last soldier, clubbing him in the back of the head with the butt of his rifle and knocking him out cold.

By the end of those few seconds, the room was in shambles, Council soldiers strewn around, either dead or unconscious. Consoles sparked and sputtered, badly damaged by the various explosions.

"You okay?" He asked the hostage, someone he recognized as a girl in his class. She nodded, trembling from head to foot. "Okay, get out of here…"

"W-who are you?" She asked, stuttering slightly.

At first he was ready to snap; "What, you don't recognize your own classmate!" Then, just in time, he remembered the mask in place.

"Oh… uh… a guy that's having a bad day…" He muttered, then shooed her off.

Darting to a console, Raziel tapped in a quick command, checking the readings that popped up. Computer logs showed that the data the Council had been after had been completely transmitted… successfully…

"Damnit!" He yelled, slamming his hands down on the console. The thing, already weakened by the explosions, literally fell to pieces under his fists. Just as he was about to find something else to smash, a thought occurred to him. Hurrying to another console, he entered another command, trying to trace the transmission… chances were the soldiers had planned on wiping such information from the databanks, but if he had stopped them in time…

There were the coordinates… longitude… latitude… excellent. Raziel quickly committed them to memory… with any luck, he could get there and stop them from uploading the data to their superiors…

A click behind him was the only warning he got, but it was enough to pierce through his satisfaction and get his adrenaline pumping. Throwing himself to one side with all the strength his muscular legs possessed, he was still sent flying across the room as a grenade exploded right where he had been standing, the blast striking him like a sledgehammer.

Crashing into a bank of computers with enough speed to shatter the plastic casings, he groaned. Who the hell had a grenade launcher? Getting to his feet a bit unsteadily, Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, he glared at his attacker…

Raziel must have been quite a sight… on top of the various holes the earlier pulse blasts had made in the stolen uniform, the grenade blast had caused several tears in the mask and the torso, blood dribbling down various cuts for the few moments needed for those cuts to heal.

The Archon who stared at him, dressed in a tidy assault uniform, seemed amused, even with the mask hiding his face.

"My, my, you are the resilient one…" he noted wryly, tilting his head as he regarded the battered, but quickly recovering hero. "I must say, I can guess that you are no regular soldier of the Council… so, exactly who are you?"

"None of your business," Raziel growled in reply, feeling his strength already returning.

"Such excellent wit!" The man beamed, his tone a rather mocking one. "Well, for the record, I go by the name of Draynax. Archon Draynax. A pleasure, I assure you." An elegant bow punctuated the point.

Raziel just dropped into a crouch, fists lifted and expression grim.

"Why, resilient _and_ feisty! Marvellous," The Archon drawled, giving a melodramatic sigh. "Why, with one of your obvious talents, I had considered offering you employment… but, I guess that is not an option…"

In the blink of an eye, the Archon levelled his rifle and opened fire.

But, by then, Raziel was already gone.

A super-powered leap carried him out of the way, the heavy uranium bullets the gun fired leaving deep pockets in the ground. Flipping in midair, Raziel rebounded off a wall, zooming in at the Archon fistfirst before the man could even begin to react.

Draynax quickly dropped his weapon, letting it fall to the ground. In the blink of an eye, he caught Raziel's extended fists, a quick twist more than enough to send the hero hurling across the room.

Another bank of computers met the wrath of Raziel's body, but within seconds he was back on his feet, charging forward to engage the Archon in close combat.

The man was fast, almost impossibly so, able to keep back Raziel's frenzied assaults for several minutes. Super-strong fists and feet battered the hero's ribs, but Comet Fist refused to back down, blocking and striking with all the speed he possessed.

The fight went on for nearly ten minutes, ten minutes of super-fast attacks and counter-attacks. Finally, however, Raziel landed a decisive blow, slamming the toe of his steel-toed boot straight into Drayax's soft solar plexus.

The other man's breath left him in a whoosh, and a quick series of jabs drove him back, slamming him back step by step. Finally, a Crane Kick struck him clean in the chest, hurling the man back fifteen feet into a wall.

The metal wall bent and dented under the impact, and Drayax slumped to the ground, landing on his hands and knees. His breaths came in short gasps, chest heaving, with the slightest rattle that blood was thick in his mouth and nose.

But, even as Raziel stormed forward to finish the job, the rattle changed into something deeper… something more animalistic…

With a roar, the Archon _exploded_ outward, arms thickening, clothing tearing, and fur starting to sprout.

The Archon was a werewolf.

"Oh dear." Raziel stated, just before a ham-sized fist caught him under the chin, sending him end over end into the only remaining bank of intact computers. Shatter, crash, etc.

"Aie…" The battered hero muttered, trying to move. He was really sore right now, and his limbs weren't quite interested in cooperating with him…

Then, before he could move, the same massive hand grabbed him by the ankle, and the arm attached to it swung like a pendulum, smashing Raziel into every available surface. Wall, floor, wall, wall, floor, floor, floor, wall…

Finally, the somewhat furrier Archon tossed Raziel a good ten feet in the air, interlaced his fingers, then swung a two-handed blow right at the hero as he came back down.

Like a large, battered baseball, Raziel shot through the window he had broken, through a door, through a plaster wall, through a snack machine, and finally came to rest at the end of a long corridor, about sixty five feet from the decidedly victorious Archon…

Now, despite all this, his injuries were not life-threatening, thus the Hospital transporters did not activate… and, unfortunately, Raziel was still conscious, though barely… he could vaguely hear a door slamming open, shouted orders to freeze, a roar in reply, shots, screams… then silence.

Raziel knew only one thing. He was lying there, dressed in the scraps of a Council Uniform… he really didn't want to be arrested…

Managing to brace himself on his hands, Raziel started to crawl down the corridor, coughing slightly… everything hurt… he was certain he had broken nearly every rib… the only thing that kept him moving was superhuman resilience, and sheer stubbornness…

Already, his wounds were starting to heal with the rapid recovery that all heroes possessed… in five, maybe ten minutes, he would be at full strength again…

He just had to stay away from the cops that long…

--------

He eventually managed to find himself a room with a false ceiling. You know, the ones with weak tiles instead of an actual ceiling? Well, he was able to haul himself up one of the tiles, into a small crawlspace. Curled up in a ball, he lay there until he had enough strength to move without pain…

Once his wounds had healed, it was a piece of cake to evade the police without even having to throw a single kick. A bit of superspeed here, a teleport there, out the window and off into the darkening sky…

As Raziel flew through the air, heading towards his apartment to get his costume, he felt determination… he had no doubt that the Archon had gotten away… and he was probably returning to the place where the coordinates had been transmitted…

Comet Fist would be waiting for him…

_**To Be Continued…**_


	2. Chapter 2

The dark apartment suddenly sprung to life, the lights in every room illuminating at once. The reason for this was simple; the occupant had attached a simple motion sensor to every light in the house, except for the ones in the bedroom. After five minutes without motion, the lights would shut off.

The current occupant, Raziel Zonoran, was entering through the window. This fact alone was somewhat odd. What was even odder was that the window was actually a good twenty stories above what, in scientific terms, is technically known as 'The ground.'

If this wasn't enough, his current attire was sure to draw some eyebrows; essentially, a lot of leather, torn, bloodied, charred, you name it. By some odd miracle it managed to cover all the, um, vital areas, but aside from that, a lot of skin was open to the air.

The skin underneath was also bloodstained, though there were no injuries to suggest where the blood came from; any would have assumed it was perhaps the blood of another. But, no, they would be wrong, it was his blood.

A muscular body was panting slightly from the exertions of flight, and the body's owner wasted no time. He lunged for the bathroom, literally tearing the scraps of clothing off of him and leaving them in his wake. A moment later, the sound of a running shower filled the small apartment, along with a loud sigh of relief.

The relief turned into a yelp as the water, as was common in apartments, suddenly turned ice cold.

Despite the drop in temperature, Raziel was tempted to remain in that shower for a few weeks… sadly, he knew that he had little choice in the matter… he had just come back from BioTech laboratories, which had been attacked by the Council less than an hour earlier. Hostages had been taken, and placed to prevent any heroes from getting inside. The plan had been, in essence, perfect.

But there was one variable they had not been able to anticipate… and that variable was Raziel himself.

Raziel also went by the name Comet Fist, a semi-famous hero with a security clearance level of thirty. Blessed with enhanced speed, strength and stamina, Raziel was capable of throwing a mean roundhouse kick…

He could also wield an energy that he simply called the Darkness… it had some defensive, and even offensive uses, but he used it quite rarely, because it tended to tire him out…

Thinking back, though, he cursed himself for not having used it when he should have… after effectively saving the hostages and forcing the Council to fall back, he had been facing the mastermind of the attack, an Archon named Drayax… he had won, after a real pummelling, but then the Archon had promptly changed into a werewolf.

Still weary and weakened from the earlier battle, Raziel had essentially been beaten to a pulp…

The scraps he had worn had been a stolen Council uniform, which he had used to disguise himself while hunting through the building… still, by his tally, he had been hit by a total of four pulse blasts, been struck with a grenade, and finally bashed about like a rag doll. It was in tatters, and he doubted a dry cleaners could help it any…

Once he had rinsed the blood and grime off of himself, he immediately bolted out of the bathroom, dripping wet and in his 'birthday suit,' starting to root around for his costume.

His victory had not been absolute; Drayax had still escaped after thrashing him, and with him went designs for a new innovation in cold fusion technology, something that would provide massive amounts of power… Raziel had gotten the coordinates the plan had been sent to, however, and for that reason he was going to go and get the plans. Forcefully.

Still, he needed to make a call…

Grabbing the phone, he dialled a number and listened as it rung. After a moment, there was a click and a deep, rich baritone. "Hello?"

"Marco!" Raziel shouted, then willed himself to keep his voice down when the voice on the other end gave a startled shout. "Sorry. It's me, Comet Fist. Marco, I need a hand."

"Yeah? What's up?"

"Listen, just find some heroes, try and keep their clearance level at 29, at the very least…" Finding the spandex pants he wore under his actual costume, he sat on his bed and put them on, pulling fiercely… damned things always stuck when damp…

"Oh? Then what?"

"Send them to…"

Rattling off the coordinates, he listened as Marco considered it. He was a contact, a fairly good one, and he usually catered to heroes in the same class as Comet Fist.

"I'll see what I can do…"

"Marco, you have no idea how much this is worth to me. Thank you."

"Take care, buddy…"

There was a click, and then silence. Hanging up the phone, Raziel rooted around some more. The spandex top was found, then added. Finally, Raziel started to find his actual costume.

A dark red and black, thickly padded top, something that had metal ribbing inside and a symbol of a falling meteor, went on, followed by pants with the same style and boots and gloves that, again, same style. The entire thing was quite fetching.

The cape was something he was particularly proud of. The inside was a dark red. The outside started dark red at the top, then eventually blended to a dark blue by the time it reached the bottom…

Raziel didn't bother with masks; a slight concentration made his eyes begin to glow a brilliant crimson… it was something he had just recently been capable of, and it made him look even more foreboding…

Another focusing caused a device deep inside him to activate, one he had gone to a lot of trouble to get his hands on. When activated, the device activated, focusing his power…

Blue, shadowy flames started to flicker from his body, the flames doing no damage to much of anything; but it was enough to distort his features somewhat, making him look older and a bit different. He hadn't done this in the Council Base for a simple reason; he had wanted subtlety. Flames from the body was not subtle.

Once he was certain he was fully dressed, he stepped back to his window, peering down at the streets below. The coordinates were relativity close; the base was in Independence Port, while his apartment was in Steel Canyon, only one tenth of a mile from the IP entrance.

Pushing from the windowsill, he flew forward at full speed, his glowing eyes filled with determination.

-------

Drayax was displeased.

Usually, such a simple state of being would result in an execution or two, mostly to those who had caused this displeasure… however, that tactic of instant gratification was somewhat beyond his grasp for a few reasons…

One, the cause for his displeasure was not here. In fact, though Drayax feverishly hoped that man was dead, he was willing to bet against such a satisfying ending…

Two, the thing that kept him from just rounding up a few soldiers and popping a few rounds into them was the simple fact that he needed every man he could get his hands on; the next twenty-four hours would be a vulnerable time…

The data they had, the data they needed to update to their main Database, was more important than a simple Fusion Generator…

A few months ago, the Council had been engaged in a massive operation… literally. A giant Mech Bot, one who's power would have tipped the scales in clear favour of the Council, had been under construction in the inactive volcano in Striga Isle…the thing was supposed to be indestructible.

However, before its power system could be constructed fully, a rather large force of heroes had stormed the volcano, effectively obliterating every single soldier, the Archon in charge, and damaging several systems. The Auto-Destruct system, designed to prevent theft of the android, had activated, effectively obliterating the entire complex.

The Council still had the needed blueprints, and a second mega-droid was being constructed at a classified location… the only one that knew its location in this base was Drayax himself…

However, the initial power source needed to supply the Droid's considerable energy needs had been destroyed when the base had self-destructed; the needed materials to produce another was too sparse to be obtained. The Council required a new way to power the prototype. Conventional nuclear sources were too feeble, and too unpredictable to be depended on.

This fusion drive technology was unlike anything ever produced before, and it would be more than enough to power the droid… it was sad that the Tritinite had been lost from the meddlesome hero's efforts, but more could always be appropriated later down the line…

Nursing his still-sore ribs, remembering his near-defeat at the man's hands, he gave a low growl. He had only survived because of his inherent werewolf transformation abilities… his wounds were still in the process of healing.

He had every man available patrolling the cave-like location of the Council base, and they were all heavily armed… if anyone arrived, the Archon was sure they would fail…

Still, he was displeased…

------

Raziel finally arrived at the proper location, swooping down upon the dark streets like a large bird. His cape fluttered prettily as he touched down on the ground, looking about for a moment… he wasn't entirely sure where the base was, so it would probably take a bit of scouting…

Wondering if his contact had managed to wrangle him up any hero support, he called out briefly; "Any capes out here?"

"Cape? Ha!" A voice called from the shadows. As Raziel turned towards the source, a man stepped from it, a wry grin on his face. "Terrible, stuffy things those capes are…"

A delighted grin spread across Raziel's face as he stepped forward, sweeping the slightly shorter man into a monster bearhug. "Rector! It's great to see you!"

Rector had the classification of blaster, a rather useful man to have in a fight. His body was capable of accelerating the electrons and protons in the air in front of him, resulting in powerful energy blasts. By accelerating the atoms in his surroundings and even his fists, he could throw a devastating punch, even increase the strength of his blasts.

Raziel had met Rector when he had first been starting out as a hero, and had helped him take down Frostfire when the Hollows had been their stomping ground. Since then, the two had fallen out of touch…

Rector didn't really bother with any kind of costume; he wore a black muscle shirt that accented his well-built frame, and bell-bottomed pants. These pants were black, with dark red flame outlines running up to the knee. Simple black gloves completed the ensemble.

His hair was somewhat spiky, and a brilliant blond… Raziel doubted this was any sort of random pick; he knew that Rector was a big fan of Dragonball Z comics, and energy blasts would suit the look…

"Aie… c'mon, big guy, we're not all as durable as you…" Rector croaked, managing to squirm out of the hug. Nonetheless, he still had a cheerful grin on his face, playfully punching his friend's shoulder. "Heard the oh-so-great Comet Fist needed a bit of backup, so I came down to offer my support."

"That's great," Raziel replied with a grin; "What security level are you at?"

"Twenty-nine, and you?"

"Ha! I'm at thirty."

"Lucky dog. The device they give you any good?"

"Yeah, as you can see with these flaming bits of fire that surround me."

"Very pretty."

"So," Raziel said, looking about. "I guess you're the only one here?" Despite the excitement of seeing his old friend again, he felt a slight pang of disappointment.

"Well, I just got here, so maybe we've got some more guys on their way," Rector replied, shrugging slightly. "Should we wait?"

Raziel considered it… after a moment, however, he nodded. "Yeah, we might as well wait ten minutes… I'm willing to bet the target's going to be very well defended… oh, I suppose you want to know what the mission is?"

When Rector nodded, Raziel started to fill him in on what had happened. The Blaster's reactions were mostly grunts, nods, and the occasional gasp. When Raziel recounted the somewhat disastrous battle against the werewolf, he groaned, almost as if he could feel the injuries himself. "Sucks to be you, man…"

Raziel grinned in reply, and was just about to check his watch when he heard rapid footsteps behind him. Reflexes clicking in, he spun, dropping into a defensive crouch. Rector stepped forward, his hands starting to glow lightly.

The oddest man was jogging towards them. He seemed to be entirely dressed in military clothing; combat netting, camouflage clothing, various odds and ends that the army men always seemed to carry… on his back was a large and rather impressive looking gun, one with many different barrels...

Stopping briskly, he stood fully at attention. His face was brusque, looking like a combination between Bruce Willis and the Rock, and he wore dark sunglasses. His head was completely shaven, not so much as peach fuzz, as was the rest of his face. His frame was large and densely muscled under his combat outfit, and his back was as straight as a broom handle.

"At ease, men!" He barked at Rector and Raziel, who gave each other hesitant glances.

"Er… right… are you here for the mission?" Raziel asked, stepping forward unsteadily towards the imposing man.

"Sir, yes sir! Blaster with a level twenty-nine clearance, sir!" When he whipped out the massive gun, Raziel nearly fell backwards with shock, immediately lifting his hands as if expecting the man to shoot him.

"Don't…" Comet Fist said slowly; "Don't do that again… it's a little sudden…"

Still standing at attention, massive gun cradled in his arms, the man blinked behind the tinted lenses of his glasses, tilting his head. "My apologies, sir, I was merely demonstrating my readiness."

"Hey, shine-skull!" Rector called, eyebrows raised. "Why the hell do you keep calling him 'Sir'?"

"Unless I am mistaken, he is the team leader, no?" The man asked, lifting a dark eyebrow. "He certainly does appear to possess more of a leadership aura than anyone else standing here."

The insult took a moment to register with Rector. He wasn't used to being insulted. The energy wielder blinked a couple of times, but once it clicked, his eyes narrowed, scowling. "Hey, did you just insult me?"

Ignoring the ticked off Rector, the man with the gun simply turned back to Raziel; "Awaiting your commands, sir!"

"Er… right…" Raziel replied, shooting Rector an apologetic glance. Then, turning back to the waiting army man, he tried to act equally efficient and military… hard to do when you're wearing a costume… "What's your hero's alias… er, Soldier?"

"Classified, sir."

Raziel blinked, Rector just staring in disbelief. After a moment, the scrapper opened his mouth to try and press the question diplomatically, but Rector just bowled right over him, storming over to stand inches from the much larger man. "What the hell is your name?"

"Classified." The man repeated, looking a bit annoyed at this point.

"I dun give a damn how secretive it is, tell me your name!"

"It's Classified!"

"Tell me!"

"Classified!"

"I'll blast you, I swear I will!"

"Classified! It's Classified! Classified, Classified, Classified!"

"Fine!" Rector snapped, poking the man square in his Kevlar-vested chest. "Be that way! We don't need your stupid name, you stupid bald guy! You're so damned stupid, we'll just call you… er… stupid! Yeah!"

Raziel chose this moment to step in, gently placing his hand on Rector's shoulder. "Er… Rector?"

"What?" The aggravated superhero snapped back, still glaring at the man, who just stared back coolly. Both of their jaws clenched and both their eyes burned.

Raziel sighed inwardly. Rector tended to get a bit… ahead of himself, sometimes. And, while that hotheaded behaviour made him unlikely to give up a fight, it sometimes meant he would bowl right over the obvious subtleties of the English language. "I think his name is Classified."

"Yeah, I know he's being a tighta-!" He started angrily.

"No, no, Rector?" Raziel interrupted soothingly, wondering how well the man was going to take this. "I think his actual ALIAS, the name he goes by, is in fact quote 'Classified' end quote."

Rector almost missed the meaning of the statement. But, just as he opened his mouth to continue his tirade, it clicked. Looking between the patient Comet Fist, and the smirking Classified, you could almost see the light click on in his eyes. There was a long silence as he considered this, then glaring up at Classified, he said in a frigid tone; "Well, why didn't you say that to begin with?"

The smug smile vanished as Classified glared right back. Before they could start shooting each other, however, Raziel quickly stepped in, starting to fill in Classified on what he needed to know about this particular mission.

"So, to wrap it up," He finished; "Just trash anything that looks like a computer or a transmitter… this is a case where the soldiers are not our top priority. All right?"

"Yessir…" He replied, all-business as he nodded briskly; "I happen to possess proximity mines that may perform such a task! I could adjust them on a timer setting if need be."

"Good," Raziel replied, feeling quite pleased that the situation was getting back under control. Rector was still glaring at Classified, and the solder-based superhero definitely looked quite smug, despite his professional exterior. "Let's start to look around for the entrance."

It wasn't long before they found it. The cave entrance was blocked by a rather large stone, one that a normal human would have been completely unable to budge. Raziel didn't find it very difficult, though, his superior strength easily sliding it aside.

"Okay, guys, absolute silence…" He whispered, looking inside. The cave was dark, but illumination could be seen around a corner about a dozen yards away.

"Wait!"

"I said quiet!" Raziel snapped, glaring at the other two, but they just shrugged.

"Wasn't me," Rector whispered.

"I did not utter a word," Classified added, tilting his head.

Raziel looked between the two, eyebrows lifted. "Well, if you didn't say anything, then who…?

A loud clanging noise was suddenly heard just above the cave entrance. Simultaneously, all three heroes looked up, eyes widening as they saw the source of the call.

Standing on top of the entrance was someone that looked like he had stepped out of the world of Camelot; he was a slim man, but covered from head to toe in brilliant silver armour, the breastplate covered in various engravings and a helm that covered his entire head. In the centre of his chest, a small symbol of a sword pointed upwards. On his back, a large broadsword was hung, the hilt and handle covered in various precious jewels.

Needless to say, this man made the rest of them look like kids dressed up for Halloween. He seemed to just embody power and skill, to be what a hero was all about.

Taking a moment to regain his thoughts, Raziel said, rather hesitantly; "Um, are you here for the mission?"

"Yes!" The man replied, and it seemed like his every syllable was emphasized… oddly enough, Raziel found himself associating it with Internet chat speak… "I am here to defeat all the people who try and attack us!"

"Ah, well, that is not actually the purpose of the missio-"

"They will fall before my sword and feel my wrath!" Out came the sword, with such a shrill noise that the other three heroes jumped slightly.

After a moment, Raziel spoke hesitantly. "Right." This guy wasn't looking so super anymore. "Could I please get your name?"

"I am-" And then he did something that Raziel had not done since he was a level three hero. The man struck a heroic pose- a heroic _pose_, for heaven's sake- and spoke reverently, as if pronouncing himself king; "The invincible Pwnage!"

Raziel blinked. "Er, sorry, the invincible _what_?"

"Pwnage!"

"Ah." Raziel cast Rector a pleading glance, and in return the hero grinned. Unlike Raziel, he was quite a fan of chat sites; considering the odd hours he worked, the only form of human interaction he got was on chat sites.

"Pwnage… it's a word for utter overkill, completely dominating something… basically, another word for all-powerful," He replied, winking.

"Invincible," Classified mused, then looked up at Pwnage; "So do you possess invulnerability, then? Such a power would provide a great tactical advantage…"

"No, I can heal myself quickly!" He replied proudly.

"Ah. Then why is invincible n your title?" The gun-wielder asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Because…" Pwnage began, then struck the pose once more. "I am the best!"

There was a long silence.

"Riiiiiight…" Rector said after a moment, then, glancing at Raziel briefly, he spoke hesitantly; "Er, what level are you at?"

"Thirty!" He replied proudly.

Rector winced at that, then leaned over and murmured in Raziel's ear; "Yeah, he's a bit of an oddball, but we could use an extra hand… in the end, you're the boss, though."

Raziel took a deep breath and let it out. He had a feeling he was going to regret this… "Okay, you can join. Let's go."

-----

When they first entered, the cave passage was surprisingly deserted… they had expected more guards to be posted at the entrances, at the very least a token defence to warn the inner lair of intrusion.

But no one ever said that villains were good with making strategies; it was likely they had planned to focus all their men on guarding the equipment anyway.

The passage they followed had no branching paths, and it opened up into a rather large cavern after only a few moments. This cavern had definite signs of Council occupation; the banners hung from the walls, there were several computer consoles, and about eight or nine soldiers walked among the systems, occasionally calling up or inputing data.

The heroes hadn't been seen yet. Gesturing quickly, Raziel led the rest of the group in a quick retreat a few dozen meters down the path they had come. Once they had done so, he talked in a low whisper; sound carried around here.

"Okay…." Raziel mused, thinking. "We can't take any risks… so, to the extent, we'll need a plan."

"Perhaps a diversion will-" Classified began to say, but then Pwnage virtually steamrolled over him, shaking his fist so that his silver armour clanged loudly.

"We don't need a plan! We will beat them!"

"Er, we appreciate the confidence," Rector said, for once opting for the diplomatic route; "But we do in fact need a plan…"

"I will go get them! Wait right here and I will beat them!"

Before the other three could even think of providing an argument, Pwnage was running back down the cave path, armour clanging all the way. The three remaining, apparently sane heroes exchanged glances.

"Now what?" Rector asked, his tone filled with disbelief.

Before Raziel could even think of an answer, a loud voice was heard further down the corridor. It was the somewhat overzealous Pwnage.

"Council soldiers!" It called, booming through the corridor. "Prepare to meet your destruction at the hand of the invincible Pwnage! Your days are now numbered, and you will all die by my great sword!"

This was swiftly followed by shouts, gunshots, metal-on-metal, and battle cries, all of the latter from Pwnage by the sounds of it.

"We don't do anything," Raziel said after a moment, sighing heavily. "We've got to get those plans, that is our first priority… they'll already be on heightened alert because of this, but if they only think one invaded…"

He found himself once again interrupted as Pwnage came running back around the bend, His armour was somewhat dented, and there was a bloodstain on his breastplate. He was waving his similarly bloodstained sword as he ran towards them; "Superheroes to me!"

"Aw hell," Raziel muttered as eight Council soldiers came running around the corner, one of them limping slightly. "Rector, Classified, full attack!"

Charging forward at full speed, Raziel saw and heard bullets and energy blasts whiz by him. Several Council members dropped like stones, some with skin scorched by energy, some with bullet holes than leaked their lifeblood onto the stone ground.

The moment Raziel ran by Pwnage, the sword-wielder turned around and ran forward as well, still waving his sword and yelling defiance. Truth be told, it was starting to give the martial artist a headache…

Crouching low briefly, Raziel pushed off the ground with both feet, soaring over two Council soldiers that were still standing. As he passed by, his hands reached out, pinching nerve clusters at the base of their necks. They swiftly dropped like stones.

Pwnage charged at the remaining Council soldier, but a hail of bullets from Classified caught the villain first, finishing him.

Raziel felt himself relax. The battle had gone quite well, considering. He turned towards Rector and Classified, opening his mouth to offer congratulations to them.

Before he could however, Pwnage stormed over to Classified, poking an armoured finger in his chest. "You took my kill, stealer!"

Then he stormed back down the tunnel, leaving the other three heroes gaping after him. By the time they had re-emerged in the cavern, the sword-wielder was already vanishing down one of the tunnels at the far end, sword drawn with a purposeful walk.

"Classified, set up your mines," Raziel said with a sigh; "Rector, you and me had better guard the tunnel… the guy's probably going to bring more foes down upon us before the day is out…"

Classified reached into one of his pouches, starting to withdraw several metal disks. As he hurried off to place them, Rector and Raziel strode to the tunnel Pwnage had gone down, taking position on either side.

"So," Raziel muttered, glancing at Rector; "What do you think of Pwnage?"

"He's a loose cannon," Rector replied automatically, scowling. "A total nut… I bet the only reason he got to level thirty was because he had been sidekicked with a powerhouse, and just got an easy ride from there…"

"Probably," Raziel agreed, nodding slightly. "What should we do about him?"

"Well, if he keeps this up, he'll have to go," Rector replied reluctantly. "From what you've told us, this is too important to be screwed up because of a-"

Footsteps. A _lot_ of footsteps…

"Superheroes to me!"

"Awwww, here we go!"

-----

Twenty minutes, eighty seven gunshots, seven energy blasts, two roundhouse kicks, three side kicks, a palm strike, three grenades, two sword hacks, one retreat, eight swear words and seventeen Council soldiers later, Raziel, Classified and Rector were all glaring at the back of Pwnage who was, of course, running back down the corridor in search of another fight.

"Lemme at him…" Rector growled, hands glowing as he started to storm off after the swordsman. His muscle shirt was covered in cuts and dirt, some blood staining the materiel.

Raziel, nursing a rapidly mending twisted ankle, all but lunged for the blaster, stopping him with sheer weight. "Don't get rash, Rec…"

"Rash! You're calling _me_ rash?" The young man demanded angrily, giving a half-hearted attempt to shrug Raziel off. The man hung on, however; even with his injured ankle, he still had more raw strength than either of the other men put together.

"Listen, I'll have a talk with him…" Raziel replied, then glanced back at Classified, who was loading the many lording ports on his gun. His camouflage uniform was badly torn in some places, revealing heavy Kevlar padding underneath. "Are your mines set?"

"I have prepared a spread that will optimize the blast radius to deteriorate the-"

"Yes or no?"

"Yes."

"Very good." Raziel tested his ankle once more, then when he was sure that it would support his weight, he released his grip on Rector, starting to move down the corridor after Pwnage. "Detonate them when we're a safe distance away."

-----

Drayax sat at a desk, one that was quite a bit deeper in the caverns than the four heroes' current position. As of yet he was ignorant to the invasion in progress, his eyes focused on the monitor in front of him. On it, a long string of translations were there…

He was nervous with the data they possessed being so vulnerable, and even now was attempting to calculate a way to send the data to his superiors sooner. The computer he used was pretty much a monitor; a wireless linkup hooked it to a bank of computers near the lair's entrance.

His musings were interrupted, however, as a slight tremor filled the earth. It was small, and a normal human would have failed to register it at all. But the Archon's supersenses picked it up quite easily…

At the same moment the tremor sounded, his screen went blank.

Blinking, Drayax felt a worm of apprehension wriggle through his gut… removing his communicator from his breast pocket, he tuned it to the signal of the men working at the computer banks his monitor had been linked to. "Patrol, my screen has just faded… is there a malfunction in the linkup?"

Static was his response.

The worm turned into a python as he adjusted his communicator. "Terren, this is Drayax?"

The response was immediate, and more than a little nervous; Terren was hardly in Drayax's favour, and the Adjustant knew it. "Terren here, sir."

"Gather a team and investigate Quadrant B… we may have some unwanted guests, and if so I want them captured… or, at the very least, neutralized."

Terren's voice lost some of its tension, relief filtering through the small comm device. "Yes sir, I will attend to it immediately."

"Terren…" Drayax leaned forward in his seat and squeezed his hands, picturing the Adjustant's neck between them. "Do not fail me again…"

"Y-yes sir, I won't…" Terren replied, and despite his attempt to sound confident, Drayax could have sworn that he heard a loud gulp on the other end before the link was terminated…

-----

"Come on, you must be brave and powerful, like me!"

The last two words from Pwnage were what really did it. Raziel liked to think that he had an even temperament, and that he could be patient. But here, in the bend of a corridor, confronting Pwnage alone as Classified attended to a rather bad bullet wound in Rector's side, he felt his patience snap like a dry twig.

But he did not yell. Instead, the room temperature seemed to drop ten degrees as he glared at Pwnage. Rector, wincing as Classified worked on extracting a chance bullet that had lodged in his flesh, recognized that look. Raziel had given Frostfire a similar look what seemed like an eternity ago…

Frostfire probably didn't enjoy the beating he got in the next few minutes after that glare…

"Brave? Powerful?" Raziel voice was tight, and he seemed ready to tear the armoured man to pieces. "You're not brave, Pwnage, you're stupid. A moron. Because of your love for blindly rushing into everything, Rector is lying there shot through the gut!"

"Then maybe he is not worthy of joining my superteam!" Pwnage replied, giving a sort of mini-pose, obviously oblivious to Raziel's steadily mounting rage.

"_Your _superteam?" Raziel asked quietly, eyes glittering dangerously.

"If you do not agree, then I will fight you to show that I am the worthy one!"

"Of all the macho-" Rector groaned, wincing as Classified finished extracting the bullet. His wound started to heal a moment later, the flesh knitting back together.

"All right," Raziel replied, jaw tight. "If you insist."

"Then we will pre-!"

Before Pwnage could get another word out, Raziel sprung into action, a swift sweep of one leg knocking the sword-swinger on his rump. A powerful sidekick struck his metal breastplate, forming a large dent and knocking the armoured hero flat on his back. A moment later, Comet Fist's heel was placed firmly against his Adam's apple.

Pwnage was so surprised, it took him several moments to formulate the words. His voice was quite hoarse, partially from Raziel's powerful kick and partially because of his confined throat. "Not fair, I wasn't ready-!"

"You never are," Raziel replied, eyes filled with disgust. "That's why you dump this all on us… this is too important to waste on your damned stupidity."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

Removing his throat from Pwnage's throat, Raziel stepped back, crossing his arms. "Get out of here. You're no longer welcome."

Pwnage got back to his feet and tried to muster his bravado; "Ha! You leave, I will deal with these weaklings myself, you pathetic excuses for heroes! You have no bravery!"

Raziel spoke again, voice calm; "Leave."

"I refuse!"

"Now."

"No!"

Raziel sighed, then shook his head. "Very well… I'm sorry we have to do this…" Glancing at the other two heroes, he gave them a brief wink, one that Pwnage did not see, then settled into an offensive crouch, fists extended.

Catching the cue, Rector held his palms a few inches apart, melodramatically building an energy sphere, while Classified switched the safety off of his weapon and brought it to bear in Pwnage's direction.

Well, Pwnage might have been foolish, but he wasn't foolish enough to think he could take on all three heroes. Averting his gaze for the first time since they had met, he headed back down the corridor, the way they had come.

Once he had left, Rector sighed and dissipated the sphere. Looking at Raziel, his eyes had mild guilt. "Would you have attacked him?"

Raziel averted his gaze from his friend. "Would you have?"

"I don't know…"

"Neither do I…"

Classified found himself with the duty of having to get them organized once more. Clearing his throat, he spoke quietly; "We should continue."

"True…" Raziel sighed, then looked back down the corridor. He felt a lot older all of a sudden… "Let's go…"

-----

Terren knew he was running out of lifelines. Though the partial defeat at the laboratory had not been his fault, really, he knew that Drayax was just searching for a reason to put a bullet in his brain…

He had with him a force of six extra men, each that were quite a bit more powerful than him; though he had weaponry just as advanced as theirs, their supersoldier treatments were much more developed than his own…

He could not help but feel apprehension, wondering what may have happened to the guards that had seemingly vanished… even as he and his squad hurried through the winding paths, leather uniforms making rustling noises at their hurried pace, he pictured what might have happened to them… torn apart, perhaps, or struck with radiation?

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts of doom, he did not notice the three heroes just rounding the corner until one of his men cried out in surprise.

There was a moment of silence, both sides staring at each other, dark thoughts brewing on both sides… neither side moved, neither side so much as breathed, as if waiting for the starting gun to go off.

Terren realized it was up to him to deal with this… he had to redeem himself in Drayax's eyes. Thinking that their advantage of numbers would prevail, Drayax quickly cried; "Full assault!"

Gun barrels shot up, but before any of them could even begin to squeeze their triggers, energy blasts and bullets from the opposing force sent many of them flying, the rest dropping low to the ground to avoid the deadly fire.

Terren took aim at the hero dressed in red, squeezing off shot after shot. But the man was fast, inhumanly fast, his agility helping him avoid all of the Adjustant's gunfire with ease, bounding across the corridor in what seemed like micro seconds. Then he was there, _right there_, fists and feet smashing soldiers left and right.

The battle was over before it had even begun, and soon Terren was the only one left standing. The hero in red stooped down, gripping his collar and easily hoisting him high into the air. A blue flame seemed to coat his body, and his eyes glowed a menacing red.

"Where is the data?" He demanded angrily, and out of the corner of his eye Terren could see the two other heroes approaching, looking quite fierce themselves.

"W-what data?" He stuttered, and was rewarded by a swift shake.

"If you don't tell me…"

Terren, not the most courageous man even conceived, found himself telling them everything; where they could find the data, down to the most detailed directions, and what resistance they were likely to find there. The man listened, silent, then put down the Adjustant, even brushing him off a bit.

"Go. Leave this fortress, and don't even think of-"

But Terren was already gone, fleeing from the group as fast as he could… but he did not truly flee from them. He fled from Drayax; he had betrayed information, and failed once again… he knew that his time in the Council was at an end, and was now more interested in preserving his own life.

-----

"Think he was telling the truth?"

Raziel glanced at Rector and shrugged, managing a wry little grin. "Maybe. I don't know… but, hey, it's the best lead we have right now, so we might as well investigate, at the very least…"

Classified, who was peering down the corridor, interjected; "In that case, I recommend we hurry… it is likely reinforcements will arrive soon…"

The three heroes bustled quickly down the corridor, opting for stealth instead of confrontation. Oddly enough, they did not run into any more guards or soldiers… in fact, they found no confrontation in any way, shape or form.

On top of that, the room that the Adjustant's directions led them too was poorly guarded; only three guards in total… at first, Raziel considered that they had indeed been deceived…

Hidden around a bend, Classified came up with the most reasonable explanation; "It is likely that they wish to prevent attracting any attention to that room, so any heroes that manage to fight their way to this point would overlook it."

"If only we knew for sure, though…" Raziel muttered, shaking his head.

Rector looked between the two; "Well, I know a thing or two about computer hacking; maybe I could try and break their password, find out what kind of data that system stores?"

Raziel considered that for a moment, then nodded; "Okay, Classified, you stay here and stand guard, if any large number of soldiers show up, try and hold them off… Rector, let's you and me go and take care of the three guards."

They had the element of surprise, and a few energy blasts later, the three soldiers were lying unconscious on the ground and Rector was at a computer terminal, a look of profound concentration on his face as his fingers flew across the keyboard.

"How long?" Raziel asked, looking over the other hero's shoulder.

"Just a minute or two…" Rector replied tensely, data scrolling by on the screen in front of him. "Just to warn you, there's no way I can crack into the system without someone detecting the intrusion; if the data is in here, we'll have to move fast."

"All right, do what you can," Raziel replied, jogging over to join Classified. "Get your mines ready, find your optimal blast pattern or whatever… I'll stand guard."

Nods were exchanged, and a moment later Classified was among the computer banks, giving each of them a critical eye as he moved about, calculating to his heart's content. A whoop from Rector indicated that he had gotten into the database, and another triumphant yell indicated that it held the needed data.

Classified set the charges in record time, Raziel now more focused on their efforts than the corridor outside. This proved to be a mistake, because when he turned to look back down the corridor, he saw a sight that made his throat clench…

Approaching them at a fast pace, dozens of soldiers flooded the passageway, weapons aiming at the young scrapper. Even as bullets whizzed through the air, Raziel was leaping into the computer room, rolling on the ground and getting back to his feet.

Rector and Classified were approaching, grins on their faces vanishing as they saw the flash of bullets striking hard stone. Classified held the detonator for the mines in his hand, and Raziel looked at it.

"Soldiers," He said shortly. "Only a few seconds away… we don't have much time…"

"How many?" Rector asked, hands already beginning to glow.

"Too many for any chance of beating them…" Raziel gulped. There were no other exits from this room… turning to Classified, he spoke slowly; "When those mines go off… how far do we have to be?"

Classified gritted his teeth. "Much further than this room will allow…"

Raziel sighed. He did not know how to tell the others this, how to tell the others what must be done… fortunately, he did not have to. Rector and Classified both nodded, understanding forming within their eyes.

"We can't let them stop the data from being destroyed…" Rector said hollowly, glancing at Classified, who winced. "This is gonna hurt…"

Classified nodded his agreement, then looked to Raziel; "I suppose we will meet again… in the hospital…" He grinned slightly, then shook his head. "Now, I suppose?"

Raziel nodded. "Now."

Slowly, Classified held his thumb over the button… then pressed it.

Pain, light…

Then darkness.

-----

Paragon's City Medical Teleporter's Computer, the computer in charge of sending badly injured heroes to the hospital for treatment, made three of the hundreds of decisions it made every moment; the bio sensors in three heroes suddenly sent signals indicating serious injury.

With the speed of thought, the MTC calmly and coolly triangulated their position, calling upon three transporter devices. Feeding the needed coordinates, the MTC activated the transportation devices, monitoring the process.

Before it could bring in the heroes, however, _another_ transporter interrupted, snatching the biosigns… their position changed suddenly, only by about five hundred yards… however, when the MTC compensated and tried to lock on again, it found that the transportation systems were blocked…

This was highly irregular…

A moment later, it decided that it could do nothing. It had no programming for this eventuality… so it simply cleared the coordinates and got back to work…

-----

"I see… so the data is lost…"

Drayax nodded grimly, though the gesture could not be seen by the man on the other end of the link; the satellite he had been waiting for was finally overhead, but with no data to transmit, he had only been able to send a report of the attack, and now was in a voice-only, encrypted conference with his immediate superior… the man's name was not known, but he was one of the most influential commanders in the Council…

"I am afraid so, sire…"

He expected anything from a reprimand to an execution… but the Archon was shocked when the voice on the other end sounded almost… chipper…

"Well, I suppose we will have to make do without… and you said that you had succeeded in capturing the heroes responsible?"

"Yes, sire… our teleportation device intercepted their medical transporter and brought them into our brig… even now, they are blocked from any attempts of teleportation."

"Very good," The voice on the other end purred. "I read your report upon the abilities of the heroes… in particular the one with control over energy…"

"Yes, sir?" Drayax felt curiosity fill him.

"I want you to bring all three of them to the coordinates I will be transmitting… protect the energy wielder above all other, however…"

"Yes, sir…"

"We may yet salvage something of this… we may yet salvage something…"

-----

The Commander ended the link, a small smile on his face… he had given up his name a long time ago, many decades… now he only had his rank, his title… and his power…

In front of him, three files lay, showing information on the three heroes that had nearly ruined everything, including pictures… there was also a computer screen, on which a schematic glowed. The schematic looked like the one needed for a Zenith Mech Man, one of the android models the Council used on some of their bases; however, the scale was much, much, _much_ larger…

There was only one thing missing. Idly removing a laser stylus from a niche on the monitor, The Commander leaned forward, beginning to make a sketch in the centre of the diagram's torso. The torso was blank in the spot that the power core should have gone… before the new fusion drive had been drawn in, but The Commander had erased it when the fact that it was beyond their reach set in…

Now he drew a simple outline… arms… legs… a head… a torso…

Smiling, he looked at the little figure drawn inside the spot, then at the picture of the one called Rector. After a moment, he raised the stylus and added some spiked hair to the little figure…

There was still hope yet…


End file.
